


Let Them Eat Cake

by misura



Category: Emperor's New Groove (2000)
Genre: Birthday Cake, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12701142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "Well, hey, buddy. It was only my birthday cake," said Kuzco. "No biggie."Kronk sobbed.





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephemeralblossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralblossom/gifts).



The knife was in his hands. Yzma's knife. The knife he'd gotten from Yzma. The knife Yzma kept strapped to her - ahem. Moving right along.

It looked to be a pretty sharp knife. Not quite kitchen material perhaps. Kronk might have used it to cut dough, maybe, or peel an apple, but, say, cutting carrots was right out. No way, no how.

"Kronk!"

"Um. One mo," said Kronk. "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?"

"KRONK!"

"Inside voice," said Kronk. "Remember, you're a young, developping animal. Gotta watch those vocal chords and throat muscles. Drink water, not milk."

Yzma growled. She was going to go for the curtains again, Kronk just knew it.

"Wait," he said. "Wait. Hang on. I'm missing something here, aren't I?"

"A brain? Common sense? _Any_ sense?"

"No, no, don't rush me. It'll come back to me in just a couple of seconds. Any moment now."

Yzma sighed. "Just use the knife, Kronk."

"Well, gee, Yzma, I'm just not sure about that. I mean, I agree that Kuzco's kind of a - well, _you_ know. But then, there are times when you're a little - just a little, mind - well. How do I put this?"

"Scary beyond all reason?" Yzma suggested, baring her teeth.

They looked clean and sharp. Kronk was glad she was taking her dental hygiene seriously.

"I just think maybe we should think about this a bit more," he said. "By which I mean me. I mean, you've obviously put a lot of thought into this, and I - "

"Buddy?" Kuzco asked. 

Kronk frowned. "I - oh. Oh. This is not good."

" _Finally_ ," said Yzma. She sounded like a cat who'd just gotten to either the canary or the cream.

Kronk hoped she hadn't. He'd had plans for that cream, and the canary had been supposed to be a gift.

"Buddy? Want to help me out here?"

"The cake!" Kronk said, shooting upright. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he smelled something burning.

 

"Well, hey, buddy. It was only my birthday cake," said Kuzco. "No biggie."

Kronk sobbed. Kuzco patted his back. Well, his lower back. Kuzco really was kind of a short, scrawny guy.

Sweet, though. Like one of those small cookies Kronk sometimes baked for dessert. If you timed it just right, they got nice and crispy on the outside while still being just a tiny bit squishy on the inside. Delicious.

"My very special, super-duper awesome birthday cake," said Kuzco. "Why'd I be mad, huh? I mean, you just fell asleep while you were supposed to be watching it. Could've happened to anyone."

Kronk blew his nose.

"And you're totally going to bake me a new one, right?" siad Kuzco. "So what do you say? Up and at 'em, eh, Kronky? Chop, chop. It's not every day it's my birthday, you know."

"Just once a year," Kronk said.

"That's right. So who's going to bake me the bestest birthday cake ever?"

Kronk considered. "Well, I'm not sure if it can be considered bestest. I mean, what are you criteria? Ingredients-wise, obviously we're good - can't beat that fresh stuff from the country-side, but there's more to baking a cake than mixing some stuff together in a bowl, you know. It's art. Sometimes I make these muffins - these tiny, tiny muffins, and they're just - "

"Tasty?" Kuzco suggested.

"The most beautiful thing you've ever seen," said Kronk. He felt another mighty sob coming up. "Or eaten."

 

"So we're thinking, what?" Kronk's Shoulder Devil said. "Sleeping potion?"

Kronk frowned. He'd been poring over recipes, mostly in his head because he'd remembered just in time he wasn't actually able to read. Pity about all those cookbooks, though.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a pie," he said. "Keeping it simple. Special, but simple."

"Def yes on the sleepy pote," said Kronk's Shoulder Angel.

Kronk frowned. "You guys know that proper pronunciation is the key to good communication, right?"

Kronk's Shoulder Devil cocked his trident. "Thought so. Leopards and spots, huh?"

"Tigers and stripes."

"Eggs and egg whites," said Kronk. "So listen, I feel kind of terrible about this whole 'falling asleep in front of the oven after enjoying a refreshing beverage' thing. Any ideas what happened?"

"Not a clue," said Kronk's Shoulder Angel, and vanished in a puff of white smoke.

"Got me," said Kronk's Shoulder Devil, and disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Kronk sighed and went back to his mental category of pies.

 

"It's not me," Yzma said, twirling around his legs. "It's this cursed body."

"Yeah," said Kronk, carefully balancing two serving trays with cups, a bowl of batter, a cup of butter and a tray of eggs. "I figured."

"Trust me. If I could be of any service to you at all, I'd simply love to help. Now, I know me and Kuzco had our differences in the past, but, well, bygones. Water under the bridge."

"Thanks, Yzma. Maybe you could - careful, there."

"Oops," said Yzma. "Clumsy me."

"It's all right. I got it."

Yzma sighed. Kronk felt for her. So full of goodwill and eagerness to help, yet so accident-prone.

 

"Hey buddy."

Kronk shot upright. Then he sniffed.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I bathed this morning," said Kuzco.

No smoke. That was good. Judging by the length of the shadow of the potted plants in the kitchen window, it was about two hours since he'd put the new cake into the oven, meaning that any moment now, it would be -

"So I'm not an expert or anything, but aren't ovens supposed to be, you know, hot and stuff?" said Kuzco.

Kronk's gaze wandered around the kitchen. Potted plants, empty bowls, some left-over eggs and butter, a pitcher half-full of a refreshing beverage, a cup, an adorable sleeping kitten.

Kuzco, having come by to see him. Again. Catching him at a bad time. Again.

"So I was thinking, for my birthday, maybe we could, you know, go somewhere," said Kuzco. "Just you and me. What do you say?"

"Absolutely. Sounds good." Happily, Kronk had learned how to multi-task - at least, how to multi-task when one of your two tasks was holding up your end of a conversation.

"Really?" Kuzco asked. "I was thinking swimming. Well, all right, so it wouldn't be _just_ you and me, but, you know, it's the thought that counts. We can get to know each other a bit better, huh?"

"Right you are." Kronk lit the oven, frowning. He'd sat down, he'd poured himself a drink, he'd gotten up to light the oven. He wasn't sure where things had gone wrong.

"I mean, I feel like I haven't really gotten to see the real you. Does that make sense? Whenever I see you, you've got your shirt on and everything, and I know we're friends, and that's cool, but I was thinking maybe we could - "

"Totally," said Kronk.

"Cool. It's a date, then."

"So it is." Kronk decided that Yzma'd had the right idea. Let it go. Bygones. Focus on the here and now.

He hoped the cake would turn out all right this time. Kuzco was such a nice guy, after all; he deserved having a nice cake for his birthday.

 

"You seein' what I'm seein'?"

Kronk's Shoulder Angel serenely stroked the stringed instrument.

"Boy's got game," said Kronk's Shoulder Devil. "I'm betting second base with birthday boy. Two weeks of paid leave, take it or leave it."

"Now there's a sucker bet if ever I've heard one."

"Hey. Nothing stopping you from putting down some money on third. Or fourth." Kronk's Shoulder Devil grinned lasciviously. "Or even fifth, if you're feeling filthy."

Kronk's Shoulder Angel shuddered and vanished in a puff of white smoke.

"You know, that guy used to be fun. Go figure."

"Um," said Kronk. "I have no idea what you guys were talking about. Can you go away now?"

 

"Don't do it, Yzma."

Yzma sighed. Her pupils were very large - bad sign. Kronk had fairly earned his badge for withstanding puppy-eyes, but Yzma had always been in a class all by herself and besides, kittens were just so cute and cuddly and fluffy and innocent. "Ohh, I simply cannot help myself."

"Think happy thoughts," said Kronk. "Think about - " well, no, she probably wouldn't cheer up at the thought of exotic bird species bingo. Or spinach puffs. Or the 1001 wonders of nature.

Or the expression that was going to appear on Kuzco's face when he tasted this delicious birthday cake.

"I must have it! It is mine! All mine!" Yzma pounced.

There was a burst of maniacal laughter, followed by a yelp.

"Yeah," said Kronk. "The thing about cream is, you want to get _at_ it, but not so much, you know, smack down in the middle of it. The power of the preposition."

"Sorry. Did I just ruin Kuzco's birthday cake? Again?"

Kronk felt touched at her concern. "Naw, don't worry. Got another bowl of cream all safe and sound standing at the ready for that one."

"Oh," said Yzma. "Good." She sounded a little down, the poor thing.

Kronk would have petted her a bit, but she'd made it very clear that she had no control whatsoever over her natural instinct to put her claws into anything that came within reach. Sad, really. If anyone was in need of a few good hugs, it had to be Yzma.

Life could be so cruel sometimes.

On the other hand, sometimes, also, there was cake. Cake always made everything better, in Kronk's experience - provided you could properly get it out of the oven.

 

"You gonna use that knife already, buddy?" Kuzco asked.

Kronk stared down at his hand and squinted. It might be the knife. Yzma's knife. The knife he'd gotten from Yzma. The knife Yzma kept strapped to her - wait.

"She's a kitten," said Kronk. "Yzma's a kitten."

"Um, you feeling all right there, Kronky?" Kuzco looked a little concerned. Probably remembering the good old days when he and Yzma had been all close and friendly. And human. Poor guy.

No way this was Yzma's knife. Had to come from the palace kitchen. Kronk would have to speak with them later. This really did not look like a proper knife to cut cakes with at all.

"I - I think I forgot something," Kronk said. "A - a surprise. I can't tell you what it is."

"That's great."

"I - can you turn around real quick. Or ... not so quick." There hadn't really been time to go all-out on the cake. So he'd taken a few short-cuts. He's used his creativity. He'd improvised.

You had a cake. That was a good start, right there. But then, to give it that little something extra, you needed something extra. You needed -

"Um, can we pretend I just jumped out of that cake yelling 'surprise'?" asked Kronk.

 

"Pathetic."

"Minus ten out of ten."

Kronk's Shoulder Devil sighed. "So, you want to shake things up a bit tonight? I'll even let you hold my trident. Can't make it fairer than that, can I? You can tell me what a good, good boy I've been."

"Perv."

"Saint."

"Aw, you know you love it when I talk clean to you."

"Honestly," said Kronk. "I feel like I don't even know you guys anymore sometimes. Maybe we should all sit down for some nice tea and cookies some time. I'll try out my new recipe for butterfingers."


End file.
